


delicate things

by SydneyHorses



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M, Post-War, this is. the softest thing i have ever written in my entire life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyHorses/pseuds/SydneyHorses
Summary: Dimitri has never liked touching delicate things, and there is nothing more delicate than this: Felix's hair in his hands, the trust that hangs between them, and the warmth surrounding them. Dimitri is bad with delicate things, but being in love makes him want to learn to be gentle.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 19
Kudos: 142





	delicate things

**Author's Note:**

> there was so much dimilix on my dash tonight and it made me lose my mind thinking about how tended they could be. i listened to sufjan stevents the whole time i wrote this and it did make me feel a whole lotta emotions. enjoy!

Dimitri has never liked delicate things. As a child, he learned quickly that he was better off leaving the delicacies to others. When he played with Ingrid, Felix, and Sylvain, he broke bags of flour and training weapons and, on one memorable occasion, the door to the cellar of the Fraldarius estate. It’s gotten better since he’s gotten older: Mercedes taught him to sew during the war, and although he snapped many sewing needles, eventually he learned the trick to it.

Still, every time he touches something fragile, he knows that he could break it in an instant.

Being with Felix is still like that, but he does it nonetheless. It’s just as it was with sewing: despite the fear of ruining something beautiful, it is better to try to make something lovely than to make nothing at all.

“Dimitri?” Felix’s voice is quiet, tempered by the late hour and the warm glow of the fire.

They’re in Dimitri’s quarters, and what had started as a meeting has dissolved into Felix sitting on the rug in front of the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his head on Dimitri’s thigh. Dimitri is on the sofa, ostensibly reading through reports, although in the last five minutes that’s disintegrated into him running his hand through Felix’s hair, still tied back in a ponytail. “Oh,” Dimitri says, trying not to sound disappointed. “I apologize.”

“No,” Felix says. “I-” he stops. Dimitri can’t see his face, but he can hear the frown. “It was nice. You don’t have to stop.”

Dimitri smiles. “Oh,” he says again. Gently, he pulls the piece of leather out of Felix’s hair, and it cascades down around his shoulders. There’s a wave to it from being up for so long, and a bump in the middle where the tie was. Dimitri strokes his hand over it.

“I’m not a cat,” Felix complains, although he’s stretching up into the touch beautifully, pushing the weight of his head into Dimitri’s hand.

“Of course not,” Dimitri agrees.

He runs his fingers through the strands of Felix’s hair, cataloging the feel so he can remember it on a bad day. It’s soft, and slips through his hand like silk or a clear stream. Felix has the finest hair of anyone he’s ever met, and it’s nearly as long as it was during the academy these days.

Dimitri has never liked delicate things.

Even now, as he gently runs his hands through Felix’s hair and feels the love of his life relax against him, he can only think of how his grip could turn harsh at a moment’s notice, how he could panic and tear Felix’s hair out of its roots.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Felix says. “Braid my hair.”

Part of Mercedes’ crusade to get him to be gentle during the war had been to braid the manes of the warhorses. It had been comforting, crowding around one of the horses with her as she patiently explained one strand over another, teaching him when to pull and when to give. He doesn’t think Felix knew about that, but then again, his memories of the war are spotty.

Dimitri swallows and digs his fingernails into Felix’s scalp. Felix shudders and sighs. The noise is soft and happy, and Dimitri glows with the warmth from it. “Move your legs,” Felix says. “You’re not going to be able to get a good braid if I’m leaning on you.”

Felix is correct, but Dimitri very badly wants Felix to keep his head on his thigh. He’s never been able to refuse Felix anything though, and so he sits up a little straighter and spreads his legs. Felix scoots back so he’s between them and bends his head down.

Dimitri’s throat is tight all of a sudden. There were so many years where he couldn’t have imagined this tender happiness between the two of them, and every day those years seem a little more impossible. He moves forwards and kisses the top of Felix’s head. “I love you,” he says.

“Sap,” Felix says. He doesn’t say it back, but Felix rarely does. He’d confessed to Dimitri once that the last thing he’d said to Glenn was that he loved him, and now every time he says it he sees Glenn walking away, never to return.

Dimitri smiles. He doesn’t mind being a sap if it leads to this.

The fire cracks and Felix sighs, the tight line of his shoulders easing. Felix holds his tension so close to his heart that Dimitri fears he might snap. Every time that some of that tension leaves him is a miracle, and every time Dimitri can assist in that relaxation is a blessing from the Goddess.

He combs his fingers through Felix’s hair and then sets to work braiding it, pulling it back into a simple three strand braid. Mercedes has never taught him any other kinds, and he’s never bothered to learn. He likes the simplicity and repetition, likes how easy it is to stay steady and content when braiding. The horses had been unfailingly patient with him, as had Mercedes.

Felix makes a soft noise and tips his head back against Dimitri’s leg.

Dimitri smiles down at him, “I thought you wanted me to braid your hair.”

“Leave it,” Felix says. “No one else is going to see it.”

“I was going to see it,” Dimitri protests. “You were going to look lovely.”

Felix frowns slightly.

“You always look lovely,” Dimitri amends. “I was simply looking forward to aiding in such a state.”

Felix flushes slightly, “The things you say.” He moves his head back to its original position. “I suppose you can continue then.”

Dimitri rests a hand on the crown of Felix’s head. Felix crushed part of the braid when he leaned back, and Dimitri undoes most of it to fix the part where it’s coming undone. Felix makes that soft noise again in the back of his throat, part sigh and part groan. Dimitri smiles and continues, reveling in the feel of a job well done.

“There,” he says at last, sitting upright. “I’m finished.”

Felix brings his hand up to touch the braid, feeling along the length of it with a cautious touch. “You did an admirable job.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri says. Praise from Felix always feels more significant than from anyone else.

Felix turns, one hand coming to his chest to hold the blanket in place. “Well?”

Dimitri has thought Felix beautiful for almost as long as he can remember, and nothing will ever change that. Felix is beautiful in the morning when he wakes, and beautiful at night when he goes to sleep. He was beautiful at the academy, filled with rage and biting back insults at every turn, and he was beautiful during the war when they all may as well have been bathing in blood daily.

Still, no version of Felix is quite so beautiful as this one. Felix’s braid is a little crooked and the end of it is draped over his shoulder. He’s not smiling, but for once there is no worry on his face. His eyes are the clear amber of maple syrup in snow, and the heavy blanket he’s draped around himself softens him even further. The glow from the fire illuminates him from behind, making it appear so that he’s almost glowing.

There are no words Dimitri knows that can express just how beautiful Felix looks.

He moves down onto the rug, squeezing into the narrow space between Felix and the sofa. It’s too small a space for him, and he is in Felix’s lap more than on the ground next to him, really. He cups Felix’s face in his hands and leans forward to kiss his temple.

“You are a vision,” he says.

“Flatterer,” Felix says, but his face goes pink.

Dimitri kisses Felix’s nose, and then his cheeks. He pulls back, still holding Felix’s face. Both of Felix’s eyes are closed, and there’s a blush dusting his cheeks. His lips are parted slightly, and the hand that’s not holding his blanket has reached forward to curl into Dimitri’s shirt.

Felix is not delicate, but Dimitri wants to treat him like he is. Delicate things are treasured, and Felix deserves to be treasured for the rest of his life. He leans forward again, capturing Felix’s lips. The kiss is like the rest of the evening: soft and unhurried, and Felix leans into the kiss like a cat stretching into a sunbeam.

When Dimitri finally pulls away, Felix opens his eyes. “Hello,” Dimitri says.

A smile tugs at the corner of Felix’s mouth, “Hello.”

“I love you,” Dimitri says again, and leans forward to kiss Felix again, for as long as he has time.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @edelgardlesbians and on twitter @edelgardlesbian


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